


Jaime Lannister Investigations - Episode 6 of 13

by ShirleyAnn66



Series: Jaime Lannister Investigations [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Remington Steele AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: Series Summary:The great detective, Jaime Lannister? He doesn’t exist. I invented him. It was working like a charm—until the day he walked in, with his green eyes and mysterious past.Episode 6:Jaime and Brienne return the scene of their first case--and the Great Detective Jaime Lannister's first failure--this time investigating the theft of a pouch filled with the remains of a glass candle from the Age of Magic.





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Canon-compliant coarse language. Jaime/Cersei scenes (that’s for the entire episode, not just the Teaser). Ummm...humor?? I hope…

Awesome banner by the equally awesome justme. :)

*/*/*/*/*

 

Previously on Jaime Lannister Investigations:

_Jaime and Brienne watch Scarface then eat a leisurely meal during which Jaime finally convinces Brienne to take in the early movie at seven and out for a drink afterwards._

_He teases her unmercifully and notes with interest every shade of pink and red she turns while always admiring the remarkable blue of her eyes.  Conversation flows more easily than he had hoped and his conscience doesn’t begin to raise its head until she’s driving him to his apartment._

_He has a sudden urge to invite her up for a nightcap but as he turns in the car and opens his mouth, his gold hand catches the light of the streetlamp and stops him in his tracks._

_Brienne blinks, her forehead creased with a puzzled frown as she looks at him._

_He quickly recovers and says, “Thank you, Brienne, for playing hooky with me.”  He reaches for her hand and lifts it to his lips.  He brushes a light kiss against her knuckles and says, “Sleep well.”_

_*/*/*/*/*_

_He doesn’t go into his apartment building until she’s driven away._

_He curses himself as he rides the elevator to his floor.  Brienne is a good person, he tells himself, and she deserves more than a casual affair, which is all he can offer her.  Besides, he likes her and being The Jaime Lannister too much to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship._

_Or, he ruefully admits as he opens the door to his apartment, his chance to hold down a legitimate job._

_He drops his keys on the side-table by the door, toes off his shoes and pads his way to his bedroom, pulling his shirt out of his pants and unbuttoning it as he goes._

_He flicks on the bedroom light and stops short._

_“Hello, darling,” Cersei purrs, sitting up in his bed and blinking against the light, the blankets held to her naked breasts in mock modesty.  “Have you missed me?”_

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime stares, his hand still on his shirt, and thanks every god he can think of that he didn’t invite Brienne up for a nightcap.

“Cersei,” he says, slowly and carefully.  “This _is_ a surprise.”

She pouts.  “It wouldn’t have been if you bothered to return my calls.”

He raises an eyebrow as he lowers his hand.  “You’re not usually so desperate to speak with me—or even to fuck me—that you break into my apartment and slip naked into my bed.”

Cersei rolls her eyes.  “You’re not still angry that I didn’t call you after that Jon Arryn thing, are you?”

“No,” he says, and it’s true.  Oddly, he doesn’t feel much of anything as he looks at her.  He frowns at the thought.  It’s been three months since the last time he saw her and yet...

“What do you want, Cersei?” he says, suddenly tired.

“You.”

He laughs, a harsh, barking sound that surprises even him with its bitterness.  “You had me.  You threw me away years ago.”

“I didn’t throw you away; you know I would never do that.  Besides, it’s only been a few months since we were together.  I’ve missed you,” she says and smiles, allowing the blanket to slip enough for him to catch a glimpse of her lush breast.  His cock stirs at the sight but to his surprise, this time his suspicions win out over his lust.

He abruptly turns away.

“I know you’re only seductive when you want something,” he says, then turns back to face her.  “Once you tell me what that is, you can get dressed and leave.”

Cersei’s eyes widen with surprised hurt and for a dizzying moment, he wavers.  He drowns in her green gaze for a long moment before Brienne’s bottomless blue eyes juxtaposes themselves in his memory and he blinks, startled.  And as quickly as it arrived, his moment of weakness is gone.

“Better yet,” he says, “you can get dressed _while_ you tell me.”

Cersei beautiful face hardens with rage before she throws back the covers and scrambles out of bed.

“I thought you would be dying for this as much as I was,” she snarls as she hastily yanks on her clothes.

“Mayhaps I would have been if you’d contacted me immediately after Jon’s death,” Jaime says.  “It’s been months, and you only started calling me last week while I was in the middle of a case.”

Cersei snorts.  “A _case_!  As if you’re smart enough for anything other than fucking and stealing things.”  She glances at his gold hand and sneers.  “Well, at least you can still fuck.”

Jaime pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

“Let’s not fight,” he says tiredly.  “Why are you here?  I know it’s not simply because you had the sudden desire to fuck me.”

She glares as she pulls her shirt on.  “It could have been,” she snarls as she buttons her blouse.  “But since you’ve asked so nicely:  Father wants you to call him.”

 _He’s not our father_ , Jaime thinks reflexively, and says, “Why?”

She rolls her eyes.  “Mayhaps he misses the sound of your voice.”

“Of course,” Jaime says drily, “what else could it possibly be?  What’s the job?”

“He didn’t say.  He just said to tell you that you owe him.”

She finishes zipping up her skirt and stomps out of the bedroom.

“I owe him?” Jaime says as he follows her out.  “For what?”

She glares up at him as she shoves her feet into her high heels.  “For closing the vaults of Casterly Rock.  Really, Jaime, you should know better than to let an outsider know our secrets!”

“I didn’t have a whole lot of choice in the matter,” Jaime says drily.  “I was being framed at the time.”

Cersei turns towards the door with a cold shrug.  “Whatever.  If you know what’s good for you, you’ll call him.”

And then she’s gone.

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne takes one look at Bronna’s knowing smirk, blushes, and hurries to her office.

“Oh, as if running and hiding is going to stop me,” Bronna says with almost evil glee as she chases after her.

“I had hopes...” Brienne mutters.

Bronna smirks and says, “Tell me everything!  Did you finally fuck him until his cock fell off?”

“ _Bronna!_   For the gods’ sakes!”

“Is that a yes?”

“He doesn’t—I don’t—we—”

Bronna waves away her stuttering attempts at language and says, “At least tell me how your date went.”

“It wasn’t a _date_ , Bronna!  We’re just colleagues— _gods_!  Not even that!  We still know next to nothing about him!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.  What did you do yesterday after he dragged you out of here, kicking and screaming?”

Brienne rolls her eyes and glares, but she knows when she’s beaten.  “We went to the matinee movie, then for something to eat, then to an early movie, drinks afterwards, and then I took him home.  _His_ home.”

“Where you fucked him till—”

“ _No_!  Gods!  We’re just _friends_!”

Bronna’s grin is knowing and smug and evil.  “And yet you don’t even know his real name.  Still, sounds like a date to me.”

The discreet chime of the front door opening is all that saves Brienne from tossing her best friend out the window.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime looks up, the morning mail in his hand, as Brienne and Bronna walk around the corner and into the reception area.

“Morning,” Bronna says cheerfully. _Too_ cheerfully.

He peers suspiciously at her then takes in Brienne’s furiously blushing face.  His lips tighten as he hands the mail to Bronna and says, “I have to make a phone call.”

He brushes past them and as he closes the door to his office he hears Bronna say, “Told you you should have fucked him.”

*/*/*/*/*

Tyrion sounds as grumpy as Jaime feels.

“You’re lucky I’ve finally picked up the phone,” Tyrion growls.

“Where were you last night?”

“Are you my mother?  I was out!  And my hands and mouth were occupied with much better pursuits than talking to you!”

Jaime pauses, then says, “Did she want to marry you this morning?”

Tyrion sighs.  “I need to stop taking them to penthouse suites, that’s all I’m going to say about that.  What’s going on?”

“Cersei was in my apartment last night.”

“Congratulations.”

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Congratulations.”

“Tyrion!”

“What do you want me to say?  Do you want me to pat you on the back and give you a cookie?  I’m not your local chapter of Cersei Anonymous!  You’re forty-three years old; it’s time you grew a pair of your own.”

“I love you, too, Tyrion.”

“What are brothers for except to tell you when you’re being an idiot?”

Tyrion falls silent and Jaime can almost hear his brother’s mind working.

“You honestly didn’t fuck her last night?” Tyrion finally says.

“Honestly.  And she was in my bed, naked, when I arrived.”

“Hm.  Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

“Well, it helped that I knew she was only there because she wanted something.”

“Cersei always wants something.  What was it this time?”

“Tywin wants me to call him.”

“Ah.  That.”

“He’s already talked to you?”

“Of course. You know if he can’t have the Golden Boy he’ll settle for second best.”

“That’s not usually how this works.”

“I told him you were retired.  He laughed rather too hard at that.”

“Tywin _laughed_?”

“It was as gruesome as it sounds.”

They both snicker, then Tyrion says, “Seriously, it’s taken care of.”

“Am I going to owe you?”

“You already owe me; I’ll just add it to the tab.  Besides, it won’t be too bad and it’ll get me out of King’s Landing for a while.  Which may be a good thing right about now.”

“You really do need to stop buying them diamonds on the first date.”

“Well, it’s also the _last_ date and they usually deserve a souvenir.”

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime is in a decidedly better mood as he hangs up the phone.  Just in time, he thinks, as there’s a knock on the door and Brienne pokes her head into his office.

“Are you over your snit?” she asks.

He leans back in his chair, raises an eyebrow and smirks.  Now that the imminent threat of Tywin is no longer hanging over his head, he has the luxury of being amused and intrigued by what Bronna said as he was closing the door.

“For now,” he says agreeably.

Before he can say anything more, Brienne nods and says, “Good.  Pia Peckledon called.  She wants us to meet her at the museum as soon as we can.”

His eyebrow rises even higher.  “I thought we were barred from that place after the last time?”

“There’s been another theft.”

*/*/*/*/*

Dr. Pia Peckledon is as pretty as ever, even with worry pinching the corners of her mouth.  Brienne sees her melt for a moment as she gazes up at Jaime but to her credit, she is almost immediately once again coolly professional.

“Thank you for getting here so quickly,” she says, shaking their hands.

“I’m surprised you called us,” Jaime says.  “I thought the Museum’s Board made it clear we were not to be used again for any security design.”

Pia gives them a rueful grimace.  “True, but this isn’t about security design.”

Brienne says, “You mentioned there was another theft?”

Pia nods and motions for them to follow her.  They walk past the museum’s standing exhibits, then through the still-open special exhibit of the artifacts recovered from the tombs of the first Lannister King and his Queen, and finally into the storage areas that are closed to the public.

She takes them to one of the storage rooms she had shown them during the opening night gala where Brienne first met Jaime.  They stop in front of a vaguely familiar storage unit where Pia pulls open a drawer that is, as expected, empty.

Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance then turn enquiring faces towards Pia, who’s now wringing her hands and biting her lip.

“I don’t understand,” Jaime says gently.

“Remember that pouch I showed you, filled with quartz sand?”

Brienne nods.  “Supposedly the remains of a glass candle from the Age of Magic.”

Jaime says, “If I remember what you told us correctly, the leather pouch dates back to the time of the first Lannister King and his Queen.  This is the only pile of sand in Westeros that is claimed to be the remains of a glass candle _and_ has a related artifact—the pouch—from the correct time period.  Although that doesn’t mean someone didn’t just fill the pouch with sand and spun a story to make a sale.”

Pia’s eyes are huge in her face as she gazes up at Jaime.  “Yes,” she breathes and for a moment, Brienne wonders if the younger woman’s self-control is about to snap because she looks like she’s ready to launch herself at Jaime at any second.

Brienne quickly and subtly steps in front of Jaime.

Mayhaps not so subtly if Jaime’s suddenly suppressed grin is anything to go by.  She spares him a glare and says, “This is all very interesting, but what does this have to do with us?”

Pia blinks and refocuses on Brienne.  “Jaime’s right that the quartz sand could be fake—but the pouch is not.  Even if the sand doesn’t belong to a glass candle, it’s still a priceless artifact, and it’s been stolen.”

Brienne scowls.  “Do you have any idea when the theft occurred?”

Pia shakes her head.  “The security guards didn’t see anything and there’s nothing unusual on the security system that we can find.  I, myself, haven’t looked at the pouch since the night of the gala, so mayhaps it was stolen at the same time as the sword hilt and the dragon bone.” 

“Or mayhaps it was stolen later,” Jaime murmurs.

Pia shrugs helplessly.  “I’m Acting Museum Director since Dr. Mopatis’ disappearance.  The Museum Board doesn’t want me to hire you again, especially since the security system you put into place seems to be so easily breached.  Not to mention you still haven’t recovered the stolen artifacts or found Dr. Mopatis.  Still...I heard about your work on the Elia Targaryen case and who knows?  Maybe this time you’ll be able to find something.”

*/*/*/*/*


	2. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:**   Jaime/Cersei.

***/*/*/*/***

“Where do we even start?” Jaime groans.

Brienne sighs.  “At the beginning.”

*/*/*/*/*

They review the museum’s security footage from the last five months and Brienne thinks the Board made the right decision when they decided to include massive storage capacity in their new security system.

“Why so much storage?” Jaime asks, bored, as he keeps his eyes on the seldom-changing picture of the hallway outside the storage room.

“For this very reason,” Brienne says, equally bored.  “They have thousands of artifacts in storage, some of which aren’t looked at for years at a time.  The Board decided if they were going to pay for a new security system, they may as well make it worthwhile.”

Jaime pouts as he props his chin on his hand.  “This is going to take forever, even with all of us taking a portion.”

She slides him an amused glance.  “‘Let me be a detective’, you said; ‘it’ll be fun’, you said.”

He slowly grins at her.  “I prefer to believe that’s what _you_ said to convince _me_.”

She shakes her head, biting back a smile.  “Anyway, at least we can just focus on the hallway outside the storage room to begin with,” she says.  “Do some background on everyone who goes in and out of it.”

“Assuming the pouch wasn’t stolen at the same time as the dragon bone and the sword hilt,” Jaime says glumly.

“Assuming that, yes,” Brienne says drily.  “What about _your_ connections?”

He blinks.  “ _My_ connections?”

“Doesn’t it seem odd that three artifacts dated to the same time period are stolen from the museum around the same time?”

“Mayhaps,” Jaime concedes, “but there’s a fairly steady demand for antiquities on the black market.  The discovery of the tombs of the first Lannister King and his Queen caused quite a flurry of activity...and a bidding war.”

Brienne frowns, suddenly thoughtful.  “What else have you stolen since the tomb was discovered?”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.  “Are you hoping to track my movements, Brienne?  Hoping there’s a reward if you were to turn me in?”

She flushes and glares.  “I should have turned you in the moment you claimed to be Jaime Lannister,” she growls.

His smile is knife-sharp, his green eyes cold.  “Mayhaps...but it’s gone too far for you to do that now.”

They stare at each other in charged, suddenly tense silence, then Brienne grits out, “I’m asking because I’m wondering if we can discover a pattern in the objects you’ve been hired to steal.”

“We’re not the only people around to provide our unique services, nor the only ones in our line of work,” Jaime purrs, “not to mention all the amateurs out there.  I doubt you’ll find a pattern.  Besides, the job before this one was purely modern era.”

Brienne rolls her eyes and turns back to her laptop and the unchanging hallway that’s on the screen.

Jaime’s phone vibrates and he looks at it, scowls, then sends the call to voice mail.  A moment later, the phone vibrates again.  He closes his eyes and curses beneath his breath.

He mutters, “I better take this else she’ll just make my life miserable.”

Brienne blinks at him in confusion, then flushes and hastily nods.  “Take all the time you need,” she mumbles.

She studiously refuses to look at him as he pauses the video on his own laptop then walks out of her office with his phone pressed against his ear.

*/*/*/*/*

“Jaime Lannister speaking.”

“You know it’s me.”

“Of course I do, but I’m not in private,” Jaime growls as he walks into his office and closes the door.

“Don’t tell me:  you’re pretending to ‘work’.”

Jaime sighs.  “What do you _want_ , Cersei?”

“To see you.  Things ended on a sour note the other night and I’d like to make it up to you.”

Jaime pulls the phone away from his ear and stares incredulously at it.  He shakes his head before he puts it back against his ear when he hears Cersei squawking his name.

“Whatever it is you’re planning,” he says, his voice flat and cold, “keep me out of it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Jaime thinks quickly and to his disgust, a part of him—specifically the part below the waist—is suddenly very interested in learning just how passionately persuasive Cersei would be to convince him to do whatever it is she wants him to do if she’s willing to semi-apologize just to get back into his good graces.

If she’s this desperate to get him back under her spell, whatever’s going on must be _huge_.

That thought is better than a cold shower.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he says.

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, then Cersei says, her voice soft, “ _Please_ , Jaime.  I need you.”

Jaime closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

 _Beyond_ huge, if she’s resorted to pleading.

Outside his office door, he hears Brienne call for Bronna and Sam then the murmur of their voices as they join her in her office.

And a desperate Cersei is a dangerous Cersei.

“My place,” he growls.  “Seven o’clock.  And keep your clothes on.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne takes in Jaime’s thunderous expression and her heart sinks.

So stupid, she scolds herself as he strolls towards the table in her office where she’s sitting with Bronna and Sam.  Of course there’s a woman—likely Cersei but mayhaps somebody else—and she doesn’t know why she’s surprised and disappointed by this proof of it.  Despite Bronna’s teasing, Brienne has no illusions about her relationship with Jaime or her looks.  She’s seldom the object of any man’s interest and when she is, it’s because the man sees her as a challenge—like the bouncer at the DragonPit—or because they think, like Hyle Hunt, that she’s wealthier than she truly is.

But Jaime?  Master thief or not, Jaime, or whatever his name really is, is never going to be attracted to her, not even for a novelty fuck.

The thought saddens her more than she likes and she straightens her shoulders and gives him a determined smile.

“There’s been at least a dozen people going in and out of that storage room so far,” she says.

He smooths his expression and raises an eyebrow.  “What day are you on?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” she says as lightly as she can, “we still have three months of footage to go so pull up a chair.”

He groans but does as he’s told.

*/*/*/*/*

In the end, they have screenshots of almost two dozen people who have gone into the storage room over the previous five months.

“Assuming it wasn’t stolen at the same time as the dragon bone,” Jaime reminds them yet again.

“Well,” Brienne says briskly, “we have to start somewhere, and if these people are dead ends, well...at least we’ve followed every lead.”

“Yeah.”

She gives him a glimmer of a smile.  “Not so easy on this side of the divide, is it?”

He raises an eyebrow.  “This frustration is exactly what I want to accomplish from my side of the divide,” he purrs then grimaces.  “But I’ll definitely have more sympathy for the people investigating one of my jobs from now on.”

“You better be talking about the jobs you did before you became Jaime Lannister!”

His smile is far too charming to be trusted.  “Of course I am.  Trust me.”

*/*/*/*/*

They take prints of the screenshots to the museum and show them to Pia.  She readily identifies each person but frowns over one.

“This is Yna,” she says, picking up the picture.  “She’s new to the museum; only been here for about two or three months...but I’m not sure why she’s going into the storage room.”

“Would somebody have sent her there for some reason?” Brienne asks, perking up. “To return something or to get something?”

Pia frowns.   “Unlikely...but mayhaps.”    She turns back to the picture and shakes her head.  “Yna works in the gift shop; she’s one of the cashiers.  Not only that but the storage room has a combination lock...how did she get the code?”

*/*/*/*/*

The gift shop is closed by the time they finish with Pia and they leave the museum on a wave of cautious optimism.

“It’s probably going to be nothing,” Brienne says as she drives them back to the office, “but at least it feels like we’re doing something.”

Jaime nods as he stares pensively out the window.

Brienne shoots him a quick glance and says, “You don’t think she’s a good lead?”

Jaime takes a deep breath and turns to her.  “She’s the only lead we’ve got, so I suppose she’s a good one.  Listen, I won’t be able to work any longer tonight.  I have a meeting.”

Brienne slowly flushes as her stomach sinks into her toes.  She gives him a determined smile.  “‘Meeting’?  Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

He gives her a perfunctory smile.  “Well, at least she’s not a murder suspect this time.”

_Cersei._

Brienne thought her stomach couldn’t drop any lower; she was wrong.  She swallows heavily, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.  She doesn’t look at him as she forces herself to say, “Well...play safe and be discreet.  The tabloids would have a field day.”

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime barely has time to shrug out of his suit jacket before Cersei arrives.  He opens the door to find her in a dark brown cloak with the hood pulled up to hide her beautiful face and bright, golden hair.

He closes the door and follows her into the living room where Cersei turns to him.  She lowers her hood, and smiles.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” she says and flings herself into his arms.

*/*/*/*/*


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Jaime/Cersei.

***/*/*/*/***

Jaime staggers back beneath Cersei’s onslaught but quickly regains his balance.  He gently grasps her shoulders and pushes her away.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he says and steps back.

She pouts.  “I’ll tell you after,” she purrs.

Jaime rolls his eyes and takes another step away.  “No more games, Cersei.  Honest to gods, with the way you’re trying to fuck me stupid, I’m beginning to think you want me to kill somebody!”

Cersei abruptly turns her back and a stab of cold terror pierces his heart.

“For fuck’s sake, Cersei—!”

She spins back and rolls her eyes.  “Oh, don’t be so stupid, Jaime!  Of course I don’t want you to kill anyone for me!  But I do have to get Robert out of my life once and for all.  He’s been completely out of control since Jon died and something isn’t done, I’m afraid he’s going to start taking his anger out on the children.”

Jaime’s eyes narrow.  He’s only ever seen Myrcella and Tommen in the tabloids but they’re still—if he can trust Cersei on _that,_ at least—his children.  Likely the only children he will ever have even if he’s never allowed to acknowledge them.

“Has he threatened them?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“Robert never threatens; he just _does_.”  Cersei’s voice is bitter.  “Gods, why Father thought to marry me to such an asshole...”

“Well, why did you stay married to such an asshole for so long?”

“Oh shut up!  Where else was I going to go once Father threw me out of the family business?”

“He’s not our father and _I came to you with a plan_!  You threw me out!”

“You didn’t have a plan, Jaime! You had a ridiculous fantasy!  Run away to the Free Cities with the children and do what?  Live on air?”

“We would have had each other,” he growls, “and I have a very strong set of skills.  We would have managed, if you had just trusted me enough to try.”

Cersei scoffs.  “No money, no prospects, and two children to feed.  You would have been reduced to a common criminal just to keep food on our table!  And I will never live in poverty again, Jaime, not even with you.”  She shakes her head.  “ _Ridiculous_.”

Jaime turns away and takes a deep breath. 

“Well,” he says with forced calm as he turns back “ridiculous or no, it’s all in the past...and that’s where it’s going to stay.”

Cersei’s smile is slow.  “Is it?  Now that you’re the famous detective Jaime Lannister, you have access to quite a bit of wealth, if the stories are true.  I know you’re just using that unfortunately ugly cow so you can get your hands on the cash.  Mayhaps this time—after you help me now—my answer will be different when you ask me again.”

Jaime keeps his expression neutral as he struggles against a sudden surge of rage at the insult against Brienne. 

“You want to get Robert out of your life,” he says, and he’s pleased his voice is as neutral as his expression.  “I can ask around, find you a good lawyer.  You should do well in the divorce, even if they find out the children aren’t Robert’s.  You don’t even have to go far to prove infidelity, and I’m sure Tywin was devious enough to include something about that in the pre-nup.”

Cersei grimaces.  “Divorce!  Is that the best you can come up with?”

“It’s the best I’m going to offer you, Cersei.  Take it or leave it.”

*/*/*/*/*

“I am _not_ pining,” Brienne snaps before shoving another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth then glowers at Bronna.

“Oh, please,” Bronna says, rolling her eyes, “you’re pining so hard you’re practically green!”

Brienne blinks.  “What?”

“Pining?  Pine trees?  Which are—oh, never mind.  My point remains:  Jaime’s on a date and you’re sitting here with me, eating ice cream and pining.”

“You’re the one who followed me home!”

“You looked so pathetic, I knew I had to pull on my BFF pants and heroically stop you from making yourself sick on this stuff.”

Brienne rolls her eyes even as she defiantly eats another spoonful. 

Then, “Thank you,” she mutters.

“What are friends for?”

They continue eating in silence then Bronna says, “By the way, Catelyn Stark dropped by this afternoon.”

“She did?”

“She said she was just dropping off invitations to Sansa’s wedding...and then we had a very awkward moment when she remembered who I was.”

Brienne can’t help the slow grin that spreads across her face.  “And you did absolutely nothing to make it less awkward, did you?”

“Oh, hells, no!  Where’s the fun in that?”

Brienne chuckles.  “Still— _invitations_? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

“Well, between you, me, and Catelyn Stark, they’re desperate to fill up the sept with people on their side, so they decided to invite you and Jaime.”

“Well, I’m certainly large enough to fill up a pew by myself,” Brienne mutters and eats another spoonful of ice cream.

Bronna rolls her eyes.  “Anyway, Catelyn is also less than impressed with Joffrey—to put it mildly—but she and Ned and all the other Starks have been unable to change Sansa’s mind.  Apparently, she threatened to elope to Sunspear if they didn’t stop fighting with her about marrying her ‘oh-so-handsome Prince of Rock’.  The compromise is they’ll have a full wedding here in King’s Landing, but it’s going to be in six weeks.”

Brienne blinks beneath the barrage of information then raises an eyebrow.  “That awkward moment obviously didn’t last long.”

Bronna shrugs.  “What can I say?  I’m a personable gal.  People like talking to me; it’s one of the reasons why you hired me, isn’t it?”

“True.”

They finish their ice cream in companionable silence then Bronna says with a satisfied sigh, “Well, that’s done.  Now, there’s no point in you sitting here, pining, while Jaime’s getting laid.”

Brienne rolls her eyes.  “I am _not_ pining!”

“Right.  Anyway, it’s trivia night at the pub across the street from my apartment.  Let’s go play.  There’s a free jug of beer for the winners and if you can convince your competitors to bet against you, you could drink for free all night.”  She pauses, considering, then shrugs.  “Or you could end up bankrupt.  Which is why it’s called gambling, I suppose.”

Brienne hesitates.

“Oh, come on!” Bronna says.  “What else are you going to do tonight?”

Brienne rolls her eyes.  “Okay, fine.  Just let me put the dishes in the dishwasher.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne thinks she hears her phone while she’s in the kitchen and calls to Bronna to bring it to her.  She glances at her watch.  It’s probably Jaime, she thinks, and her heart leaps in her chest at the thought.

“You’re hearing things!” Bronna yells back.  “Your phone didn’t ring!”

Brienne’s heart plummets into her shoes.

 _Idiot_ , she thinks.  _He’s with Cersei; of course he’s not phoning you tonight.  And Bronna’s right:  I really am pining._

She leaves the kitchen with a determined smile and her chin held high.

“Let’s go kick some trivia ass,” she says.

“That’s my girl,” Bronna says and leads her out the door.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime picks up his phone and frowns at it, trying to decide if he should call Brienne again.  His last two tries have also gone to voice mail and he wonders how pathetic it will look to Brienne if he tries again and she sees four missed calls from him.

Because four is so much more pathetic than three.

He scowls and tosses the phone on to the end table beside his bed.

Well, he decides as he starts to unbutton his shirt, she probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime raises an eyebrow as Brienne walks into the office, her glorious eyes hidden by a pair of large sunglasses.  She growls something that might have been a greeting and quickly strides towards her office.  He hears her door close before he turns to Bronna.

“What?”

Bronna chuckles.  “She’s hung over, so go easy on her.”

“Hung over?” Jaime says, his eyebrow inching higher.  “Why is she hung over?”

Bronna’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.  “Do you think you’re the only one with a social life?” she says.

Jaime’s good mood is immediately dashed.  He’s not looking forward to discreetly finding a divorce lawyer for Cersei and he’s still not certain if that’s going to be enough to keep her from spinning out of control, but now he also knows that Brienne didn’t answer his calls last night because she was out…having a life…like she should be.

He clears his throat.

“Of course not,” he says as smoothly as he can.  “I just haven’t seen her forget herself when she has to work in the morning.

“Well, you’ve only been around for five months, Jaime.  There are many things you don’t know about Brienne.”

Jaime blinks, frowning, then says, “Well, I’ll be in my office whenever she’s recovered enough for us to do some work.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne warned Bronna it was stupid to place a bet with the neighbouring table at the pub, but her friend and co-worker will not be swayed once she gets an idea in her head.  Not that the two men at the next table weren’t nice and funny and fun, and Brienne is still proud of the fact that even though Pate and Alleras are novices at the New Citadel, Brienne and Bronna still kicked their asses in trivia.

In retrospect, though, having the losers buy the winners a shot for every point difference in scores was not the brightest idea Bronna has ever had.

Brienne groans as she drops two antacids into a glass of water then downs it in three gulps.  She puts the glass down with a sigh and carefully lowers her head to rest it on her arms.

The Pycellenol will start working soon, she knows, but it’s hours before she starts to feel any relief from her hangover.

She carefully raises her head and looks at her phone.

Well.

Five minutes anyway.

She straightens with a determined sigh then frowns as she notices her phone is set to silent and she has several missed calls.  She checks the call history and her heart warms when she sees Jaime _had_ tried to call her last night—twice.

That makes her happier than it’s safe to be, she thinks.

Still, she gets to her feet with a smile and strolls to her office door.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime seems unhappy when he sees her but Brienne is still too hungover to worry about it.  Besides, Yna is supposed to be working at the museum gift shop today and they need to talk with her.

*/*/*/*/*

Yna is a pretty young woman with large dark eyes and equally dark skin.  She’s smiling and friendly as she greets Jaime and Brienne in the gift shop, but she quickly turns nervous when they tell her who they are and ask to speak with her in private.

She takes them to the gift shop storage room and stands, wringing her hands and looking restlessly from one to the other.

Jaime gives her a soothing smile and says, “We just have some questions.”

“About what?” she asks.

“There’s been some unauthorized entries into one of the storage rooms, and you’ve been identified as one of those people.”

Her eyes widen then she straightens, an indignant look on her face.  “It was not unauthorized!  Leo had left a notebook in the storage room and asked me to run and get it and put it in his office, so I did.”

“Leo?” Brienne asks.

“Dr. Leo Tyrell; he’s one of the curators here.”

“And he gave you the combination to the door as well?”

“Well, of course. How else would I get in?”

*/*/*/*/*

Dr. Leo Tyrell is one of the curators of Age of Magic artifacts and confirms Yna’s story.

“I’m old-fashioned,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his hazel eyes.  “I still like pen and paper when I’m making my notes.  Unfortunately, I’m also absent-minded and that means I tend to leave my notebooks behind on occasion.  I do remember that day, however, because I was rather desperately late for a meeting and realized I’d left my notebook behind.  Yna’s a nice girl…and the first person I saw, really.  I gave her the code and asked her to find the notebook and put it in my office.”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne’s headache is back as Jaime drives them to the office.

“Another dead end,” she mutters.

“Well,” Jaime says with a sigh, “look on the bright side.”

She turns and frowns at him.

“We get to watch through that security footage again to confirm Leo’s story.”

She groans and lets her head fall back against her headrest.

*/*/*/*/*


	4. Three

***/*/*/*/***

They crowd round Sam’s computer as he queues up the security footage.  Brienne’s head is still throbbing and she’s grateful she only has to watch small snippets of video this time.

They quickly work their way through the footage until they find Yna and—

“Who’s that?” Jaime says, tapping his finger against the computer screen.

Brienne scowls, grabbing the folder of pictures they had gone through with Pia.  She flips through each page until she pulls one out and says, “It looks like Robert Frey.”

Jaime scowls as he leans back in his chair.  “Never thought to show Pia screenshots of those moments when more than one person went into the storage room,” he mutters.

Brienne rubs her temple and says, “One step at a time, Jaime.  Sam, please go through and flag every time you see Yna, okay?  We’ll take a look at it all when we get back.”  She glances at her watch.  “I’ll call the museum; arrange a meeting.” 

*/*/*/*/*

Dr. Robert Frey is young and whip-thin with sharp features that vaguely remind Brienne of a weasel.  Still, he seems pleasant enough.  An Assistant Curator in the Age of Magic division of the museum, he’s the most frequent visitor to the storage room according Sam’s call just before they reached the museum.

“I’m working on a second doctorate,” Robert says with a slightly pompous air.  “My research requires extensive analysis of artifacts located throughout the museum.”  He shakes his head.  “We really need to re-organize those back rooms,” he mutters.

“Well,” Jaime says with a charming smile, “there’s been some evidence of unauthorized entry into the storage rooms.  You’ve been seen on the security footage—”

Robert flushes and deflates.  “Yna.  Right?  You’re talking to me because of Yna.”

Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance then nod.

The young man shifts in his chair then says, “Look, we take guests into the storage rooms all the time!  I didn’t realize it was against policy!”

“Nobody’s in trouble,” Brienne says, her voice soothing, “and it’s not against policy…yet.  However, we’ve been asked to look at the security protocols that are in place and identify any weaknesses.  Unauthorized access to the storage rooms just happens to be one of those weaknesses.”

Robert gives her a relieved look and says, “I was just trying to impress her.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.  “Impress her?”

“She’s really pretty.  Don’t you think?”

“Ah,” Jaime murmurs.  “And taking her to the storage room was so you could...?”

Robert blushes a bright, glowing red.  “No!  Nothing like _that_!  She’s not interested in me that way.”  For a moment he looks crestfallen, then says, “But I’m okay with that…mostly.  Anyway, she’s sweet and nice and really interested in the Age of Magic, even if she does have a few crackpot ideas about it.”  His sudden smile is so bright it almost makes his weaselly face appear handsome.  “She’s pretty smart, too.  Arguing with her has been a lot of fun even if her ideas are nothing more than Internet conspiracy theories.”

Brienne gives him a smile and says, “What kind of crackpot ideas does she have?”

“Oh, she thinks magic was real.  I mean, she _really_ believes it, even in the face of scientific evidence to the contrary.  Silly, really.  Anyway, I took her into the storage room one day because she wanted to see some of the artifacts that are considered ‘magical’.  I thought once she saw how mundane they are, how ordinary, she’d realize her theories just don’t hold any water.”

“Which artifacts did you show her?” Jaime asks.

Robert frowns.  “What does it matter?”

Jaime shrugs.  “Just curious, really.  My brother also believes magic was once real and we’re always arguing about it.  I mean, did any particular artifact sway her to your side of the debate?  I can use all the help I can get when I’m arguing with my brother!”

Robert relaxes and shrugs.  “It can be frustrating,” he says.  He frowns as he thinks back.  “Nothing in particular seemed to convince her that magic never existed.  I showed her...let me think...I showed her a piece of petrified weirwood, and there’s a gold choker with an empty setting that’s rumored to have once held a magic ruby...oh, and I showed her a pouch filled with quartz sand that’s logged in the archive as the remains of a glass candle.  It’s not, of course.”

Brienne raises an eyebrow.  “You seem very certain.”

Robert shrugs.  “My research has shown glass candles were supposed to be made of dragonglass—sorry, that’s the fanciful term for it.  I mean obsidian.  Quartz isn’t the same thing.”  He frowns and shakes his head.  “She didn’t believe me when I told her it was quartz.  Only time I ever got angry with her.  I mean, arguing about whether magic was ever real is a fun philosophical exercise, but I also have a geology degree.  I know my rocks!”

*/*/*/*/*

Pia is already gone for the day by the time they finish with Dr. Robert Frey, so Jaime and Brienne return to their office.

“Well,” Sam says, “my review of the footage corroborates both Dr. Frey’s story and Dr. Tyrell’s.  Yna only goes into the storage room twice:  once with Robert and once by herself.  She’s carrying a notebook when she leaves the second time.  My background check shows Yna is an active member of an online forum, The House of the Undying, which also backs up Robert’s story.”

Jaime frowns.  “The what?”

“House of the Undying.  It’s a forum for magic practitioners.  They spend most of their time debating the legend of Bran the Sleeper and any prophecies they can find about the return of magic.  Some of it’s pretty crazy shit.  Yna also works part-time as a fortune-teller at the Sandsilk Tent.”

Brienne’s brow wrinkles with a frown.  “Where?”

“It’s in Old King’s Landing,” Sam says with a shrug.  “They tell fortunes and you can buy good luck tokens and love potions; things like that.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.

“It’s all on their website!” Sam says.

“Right.”

Brienne groans.  “I can’t handle this today.”  She rubs her temple and says, “Well, at least we know they need props and trinkets for their store.  Mayhaps Yna stole the pouch to provide an air of authenticity to the place.  Or mayhaps it’s for one of her clients.  We’ll go in the morning and speak to the owner.”

Jaime smiles a little, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  “You don’t wish to rush over this minute?  Mayhaps buy a love potion or two before your next night out?”

She blinks at him, scowling.  “I _really_ can’t handle this today,” she mutters and stands.  “I’m heading home.  Pick me up at my place in the morning and we’ll head over first thing.”

*/*/*/*/*

That night at his usual time, Jaime mutes the movie he’s watching, picks up the phone and scowls at Brienne’s number.

The urge to call is almost irresistible…but she was out last night and had enough fun to forget herself to the point she ended up with a hangover this morning.  She needs her sleep; she doesn’t need him playing games with her.  Not that he _means_ to be playing games but he can’t seem to stop himself from saying whatever it is he’s thinking or feeling at the moment.

He remembers his recent encounters with Cersei and grimaces as he gently bangs his head against the back of the couch.

Brienne doesn’t need to be dragged into _that_ drama.  No matter how he tries to disentangle himself, he’ll never be completely free.  His past is complicated and so is his future and Brienne deserves better than to be trapped in that web alongside him.

He turns up the volume on the TV and shoves the phone beneath the cushion beside him.

Out of sight, out of mind, he tells himself.

*/*/*/*/*

His fingers itch to call her until long after he’s gone to bed.

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne feels more deflated than she wants to admit over the fact that her phone stayed stubbornly silent the night before.

Cersei, she thinks sadly, then shakes her head as she heads to the front door of her apartment building to meet Jaime.  It’s her own damn fault for thinking their nightly phone calls means anything at all to him.  Even if he _is_ always the one who calls, she should have known better.

It doesn’t matter anyway.  He’s still Jaime Lannister, they still have a job to do, and she’s nothing if not professional.

She flushes a little as she get in the car and tells Jaime everything’s all right.  She keeps a determined smile on her face as he drives them into Old King’s Landing.

*/*/*/*/*

The Sandsilk Tent is located in a red brick building but the interior, at least, more than makes up for the prosaic exterior.  The room they step into is small with two round tables and a beaded curtain hanging in the doorway leading to the back.  True to its name, sandsilk is draped, billowing, over the walls, and the discreetly placed brass lanterns fill the room with dim light shimmering through red, orange and yellow glass.  It all combines to give the place an atmosphere of mystery and—yes—magic.

Two women glide through the beaded curtain and approach.  One is heavy-set with a broad face and a flat nose, while the other is stocky with a multitude of warts on her face.  In the dim, red-orange light, her skin looks...

“ _Green_?” Jaime asks as the women stop in front of them.  “Really?”

The woman blinks in surprise than glares.  “You should not mock another person’s misfortune, ser,” she says coldly but turns a welcoming smile towards Brienne.  “My name is Maggy and this is my associate, Mirri Maz Duur.  You have come to us to learn your future?  We can peer through the mists of time using tea leaves or cards or, if you are brave enough, a drop of your blood on my tongue will tell me all that awaits you.”

Mirri says, “Or mayhaps you need a love potion or two?” She flicks her gaze from Brienne to Jaime then back again, raising an eyebrow.

Jaime laughs as Brienne blushes and tries to stammer out a response.

“I am more in need of love potions than my friend,” he says, “and yes, we would love to have you tell us our futures.”

Jaime decides the horrified look on Brienne’s face is worth suffering through whatever platitudes these women will tell them.

*/*/*/*/*

The sandsilk on the walls muffles their voices and the lanterns throw shadows that twist and dance against the gently undulating fabric.  Mirri and Maggy speak in low voices as they shuffle the cards in their hands and Brienne finds herself swaying closer as she listens.

“There is magic all around us,” Maggy says, her skin a mottled green when seen this close.  “It is in the air we breathe and the words we speak and the places we go.  We create it every day as we live (she and Mirri each lay down a card) and work (a card) and love (a card) and pray (a card).  It is the magic of birth (a card) and faith (a card), of love (a card) and life (a card)…and of death (a card).”

The women put aside their decks and look up at Jaime and Brienne.

Mirri’s eyes glitter in the dim light as she says, “This is the magic of the ordinary and powerful in its own right.  Now…let us begin.”

Mirri and Maggy lean over the table and peer at the cards, both those in front of them and the cards in front of the other.  They glance at each other and nod.

Mirri says, “Jaime, I see you have impulsively embarked upon a new beginning after a reckless past.  The path ahead is not without dangers of its own including the dangers of past mistakes returning to haunt you.  There are regrets over a past love that hold you back.  Too much time wondering about the roads not taken can keep you mired in place and if you’re not careful, regret about what-might-have-been will prevent you from reaching for the happiness that is standing right in front of you.”

Mirri frowns at the cards, touching each one in turn before she continues. 

“This new path, this new journey, will be one of twists and turns and ups and downs before you find happiness.  You are surrounded by lies and deception but the truth will be brought to the light whether you will it or no.  You will never be completely free of the past but if you hold on to the good and release the bad, you will find it to be a source of strength and not weakness.”

Mirri finishes speaking and Maggy glances up from the cards she’s been studying to pin Brienne with her gaze.

“You, Brienne, are also surrounded by lies and deception.  Whether you can forgive and understand and move past them is your decision and no one else’s.  You are driven to succeed, but there may be a heavy price to pay if you are unwilling to be truthful to yourself about what you truly desire and if you allow self-doubt and fear prevent you from taking risks.”

Maggy pauses, lightly brushing her fingers against the cards in front of her.

“Happiness waits for you at the end of your journey, which is also twisting and bumpy, but remember that you are the only one with the power to drive things forward.  Work and career consumes you at the moment along with a burning desire to solve other people’s problems and do right by them.  However, that passion can cause you to lose sight of your own needs.  Self-doubt can also overwhelm you if you’re not careful, and turn you craven.  If you stand proud and push through your fears to take emotional risks then you, like Jaime, will find love and happiness and family.”

The silence that follows in that sandsilk-lined room seems to overflow with weight and meaning.

Then Jaime says, “Very interesting.  Thank you,” and turns to Brienne.  “Are you ready to go shopping in their store now?”

*/*/*/*/*

The trinkets for sale are non-descript and everything that’s expected to be available from a fortune-teller.  In the end, Jaime buys a book about Bran the Sleeper, settles their bill, and ushers Brienne back out to the car.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime drives in thoughtful silence and Brienne watches him from the corner of her eyes.

Suddenly he laughs.

“What’s so funny?”

“Practical magic.”

“Well, I’m not sure how something that doesn’t exist can be considered practical—”

“No, no— _Practical Magic_.  Sandora Bullok.  Nycole Kydman.  Aedan Qinn.  1998.  Two sisters, who are maegi, are raised by their eccentric and equally magical aunts.  Their aunts make a living by telling fortunes and selling love potions.”  He shakes his head.  “Who knew there are people out there actually living that storyline?”

Brienne sighs.  “Living that storyline or not, we’re still no further ahead than we were before.”

He nods.  “There are definitely easier ways to make ‘magical’ trinkets than stealing artifacts from a museum.”

“Another dead end,” Brienne mutters and sits in glum silence for the remainder of their journey back to the office.

*/*/*/*/*

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**   The list of Tarot cards that I used to come up with Jaime and Brienne’s fortunes:
> 
> Jaime:  
> Live – The Fool  
> Work – Queen of Wands  
> Love – Five of Cups  
> Pray – Eight of Cups  
> Birth – Three of Swords  
> Faith – Strength  
> Love – Ten of Cups  
> Life – Death  
> Death – King of Cups
> 
> Brienne:  
> Live – King of Swords  
> Work – Queen of Pentacles  
> Love – Two of Cups  
> Pray – Knight of Swords  
> Birth – Nine of Swords  
> Faith – Nine of Wands  
> Love – Ten of Cups  
> Life – Devil  
> Death – Queen of Cups
> 
> It’s a pretty surface reading of the cards, of course, so my apologies to any Tarot card readers out there.


	5. Four

“Well, it was a pretty slim lead to begin with,” Sam says and Brienne nods.

“If Yna did steal the pouch, then she probably did it for different reasons than to have more trinkets to sell in the store she works in part-time,” Brienne says with a sigh.

“What else have you found, Sam?” Jaime says.

“Well, Robert says the pouch was still in the storage room when he gave Yna a tour.  That was six weeks ago and Robert doesn’t go back into the storage room again.  Two weeks after that tour, Leo Tyrell visits the room and about three hours after he leaves, Yna makes her solo trip and exits with Leo’s notebook.  There are three other people who go into that storage room over the following four weeks before Dr. Peckledon’s visit, when she discovers the pouch is missing.”

“So, if we believe Robert and Yna didn’t steal the pouch together, and neither did Pia,” Brienne says, “that gives us five suspects including Yna?”

Sam shrugs and nods.

Jaime suddenly grins.  “Well, there’s just no help for it, then…play them again, Sam.”

*/*/*/*/*

They watch the footage of each person in glum silence.  When finished, Jaime leans back in his chair and shakes his head.

“The only person who shows even the slightest bit of nervousness is Yna,” he says.

It’s true. In the video, she glances round before she keys in the door code and when she leaves, she peeks out to peer both ways before she hurries down the hallway.  The other four simply walk in and out, usually looking at something in their hands as they do so.

“Well,” Brienne mutters, “she _was_ somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, even if she could prove she was asked to go there.”

Jaime nods.  “What did you find on your background checks, Sam?”

“Not much.  None of them have significant debt or have publicly crossed paths with people like the Cleganes or the Martells.  No criminal records.  Well, Dr. Mya Stone was caught in a bar raid once and Dr. Leo Tyrell has a tendency towards watching too much porn—”

“How would you know _that_?” Brienne yelps.

Jaime and Sam exchange a glance then say, in unison, “Plausible deniability.”

She groans and rubs her temples.  She says, “Besides the personal habits _we’re not supposed to know_ , have you found anything relevant?”

Sam shakes his head.  “That’s the thing:  no one has any real reason to steal the pouch, not even Yna.  Yes, she’s a single mother but she lives a quiet life for one so young.  She goes to work, pays cash for everything as far as I can tell, has no obvious significant other, and spends a lot of time online at The House of the Undying.  She spends most of her time there posting about Bran the Sleeper and debating whether magic is real and can be returned to the world.  Mayhaps she wants money so she can, I don’t know, get out more?”

Jaime shakes his head.  “If she truly wanted money, there are other artifacts in that storage room that have more intrinsic value than a pouch filled with sand.”

Brienne gives him a questioning look and he shrugs.

“There are gold artifacts in that room—Robert mentioned he showed her a gold choker, didn’t he?  Gold can be sold almost anywhere and she would come into quite a nice windfall, given the current price of it.  But the pouch?  She’ll only get a few groats, at best, unless the person who buys it believes it truly is what she claims it is:  a pouch from the Age of Magic, filled with remains of a glass candle.”

Brienne restlessly drums her fingers on Sam’s desk as she ponders Jaime’s words.

“So we’re back to ‘she had a buyer’?” she says.

Jaime spreads his hands and shrugs again.  “If it’s Yna, this seems to have been a crime of opportunity more than anything else.  Unless Leo Tyrell or Robert Frey is an accomplice...?”

“Or the buyer?”

He shakes his head.  “No need for either of them to buy it or even hire somebody to steal it.  They both had better access to the pouch than Yna.  They could have taken it at any time.”

Brienne shrugs.  “Maybe they, too, wanted to maintain plausible deniability?”

Jaime blinks then gives her a slow, wicked smile. “Mayhaps.  Still, a dangerous game to play, if so.”

Sam frowns.  “Why?”

“Because in that scenario, somebody else _knows_ what happened and who’s behind it.”

Brienne leans back in her chair and heaves a frustrated sigh.  “And so we’re back where we started.”

Sam frowns and says, “Mayhaps she stole it _because_ it was once magical.  Or supposed to have been.”

Jaime and Brienne turn and give him a thoughtful stare.

Sam blushes.  “Well, if the motive isn’t greed, then mayhaps it’s a sort of...well, lust, or obsession?  She _is_ pretty passionate about magic.”

Jaime and Brienne glance at each other then nod.

“It’s as good a theory as any other,” Brienne says and gives Sam an approving pat on his shoulder.

Jaime leans back in his chair and raises an eyebrow at her.  “What do you want to do?”

“Well, we haven’t yet asked Yna for her version of the visit to the storage room with Robert Frey.”  She frowns, glancing at Sam.  “Robert said he also showed her a petrified piece of weirwood, didn’t he?  And a choker that was rumored to have held a magic ruby?”

Jaime’s eyebrow inches higher.  “Mayhaps we should see if they’re still where they’re supposed to be?”

Brienne gives him a slight smile.  “That may be a very good idea.”

*/*/*/*/*

Both the weirwood and the choker are gone.

*/*/*/*/*

Once Pia finishes cursing, she begins canvassing the museum’s curators and researchers in the faint hope someone removed the weirwood and the choker without logging it.  In the meantime, Jaime and Brienne make their way to the museum’s gift shop where they find the manager working alone, looking worried.

“Yna?” she says.  “She’s not here.”

“When is she next scheduled to work?” Brienne asks.

“Thirty minutes ago!” the manager says, wringing her hands.  “She hasn’t called and she hasn’t arrived yet; there’s no answer on her cell and I’m about to call her emergency contact to see if they know where she is.”

“Well,” Brienne says with a professional smile, “we need to speak with her.  Why don’t we go over to her place and check on her?”

The manager blinks, then scowls as she peers at them.  “You know where she lives?” she asks suspiciously.

“We do,” Jaime says smoothly.  “We’ll tell Yna to call you once we find her.”

*/*/*/*/*

They drive to Yna’s address only to find an empty lot.

*/*/*/*/*

“It’s the only address I can find for her,” Sam says, stuttering a little on his words.  “Give me a little time to dig deeper—maybe I can find something else.”

“See what you can do,” Brienne says, her face grim as Jaime parks the car half a block from the Sandsilk Tent.

They walk to the store and Jaime opens the door for her.  She walks inside, only to come to such an abrupt halt, Jaime collides with her, his arms automatically going round her as they stumble forward.

They stand in frozen tableau as they stare at the bare walls and empty tables.  Everything’s gone:  the sandsilk and the beaded curtains and the lanterns, and the overhead lights seem overly bright when compared to the last time they were here.  They disentangle themselves and walk to the back to find, as expected, that the shelves are bare.

They wander almost aimlessly back into the front room and once again stare round the now-stripped room before they stare at each other.

“How did they know we’d be coming back?” Brienne finally says.

Jaime shakes his head.  “Well…they _are_ fortune-tellers.”

*/*/*/*/*


	6. Epilogue

They spend the next two days searching for some trace of Yna, Mirri and Maggy but even Sam’s skills are no match for the three women.

“Unless you want me to start reviewing the security footage of every passenger ship, plane, train, bus, toll booth—”

Brienne grimaces.  “No, no, no—I get it.”  She sighs.  “Who knew it was this easy to disappear without a trace?”

Jaime tentatively raises his gold hand.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles.

*/*/*/*/*

In the evenings, Jaime finds himself resorting to more and more elaborate hiding places for his phone when it’s his usual time to call Brienne.

He’s resisted the desire three nights in a row now, he thinks as he tosses his phone in the drawer beside his bed and closes it with a solid snap.  It’s getting easier.

He glares at the drawer then abruptly turns and hurries out of the bedroom and out of his apartment.

A drink, he thinks almost desperately as he rides down in the elevator.  He just feels like going for a drink.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne return from telling Pia the bad news and find Bronna and Sam glued to the television in the boardroom.

“They found another body in the Dreadfort,” Bronna tells them.  “They already know it’s not Lady Hornwood-Bolton.”

“They suspect a serial killer,” Sam says.

Jaime and Brienne watch the news coverage and Jaime sees WNN has already created a logo and theme song for the newly-named Dreadfort Killer.

“Those poor women,” Brienne finally murmurs before she shakes her head and goes to her office.  Sam soon follows her lead, muttering something about trying one more time to find a trace of the Yna and the others.  Jaime watches TV for another a few minutes then gives Bronna a half-smile and turns to leave.

“Jaime,” Bronna says and there’s a hard note in her voice that causes him to turn back in surprise.

She stares steadily at him for a long moment before she says, “I like you.  I want you to know that.”

He blinks.  “I like you, too, Bronna.”

“Good.  I also want you to know that because I like you, I don’t really care what kind of game you’re really playing here, with us, by taking on the persona of Jaime Lannister...but I _do_ care what kind of game you’re playing with _her_.”

Jaime keeps his face carefully expressionless.

Bronna says, “Your personal life is your own concern, but Brienne...she’s not like you and me, Jaime.  She’s kind and honorable and far too soft-hearted to be doing this kind of work and being friends with people like us.  I love her like the sister I never had and the other thing I want you to know is...if you’ve been leading her on just so you can break her heart...there will be no place on this planet where I won’t find you.”

His eyes widen.  “I believe you.”

Bronna gives him a bright, sunny smile.  “Good.  I’m glad we understand each other.”  She gets up and saunters to the door, pausing to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder.  “I’m so glad we had this little chat.”

*/*/*/*/*

Tyrion thankfully texts him that afternoon and the urge to call Brienne that night is subsumed by curiosity about Tyrion’s latest job and the simple pleasure he always takes in his brother’s company.

It’s only after they’ve consumed several bottles of Arbor Gold that Jaime tells Tyrion about the case they just finished, the objects that were stolen, and their theory of the motive behind the crimes.

“Of course,” Jaime says, sprawled bonelessly on the couch, “the choker itself isn’t magic but rather the ruby it was rumored to contain.  Still...probably close enough to count.”

There’s silence after he finishes speaking and he glances over at Tyrion, who’s staring at him with a puzzled frown.

“What?” Jaime says, sitting up straight.

“As you know, I just got back from Oldtown,” Tyrion says slowly, “and that I liberated several objects from the New Citadel.  What you _don’t_ know is what those objects were:  a book called _Dragonlore_ , by Hugor Hill, dating from the time of the First Lannister King and his Queen, another book called _Ice and Fire,_ by Gage Martyn, a so-called history of the events leading up to the end of the Age of Magic...and a pouch filled with the crushed remains of a ruby that was supposedly once used by a priestess of Rh’llor in her magical rituals.”

Jaime stares unblinkingly at Tyrion for long, silent moments.

“What the fuck is going on?” he says, his voice flat and cold.

“I wish I knew,” Tyrion says and gulps his wine.

*/*/*/*/*

It’s Jaime’s turn to be hungover in the morning but Brienne rather resentfully thinks he’s lucky enough that the day is quiet and he still looks almost unbearably handsome, even with the slightly green tinge to his skin.

His hangover is also gone before noon and at the end of the day, he bids her good-night with a charming albeit remote smile.  That smile deflates her and even the ice cream in her freezer isn’t enough to lift her spirits.

She paces her apartment and finds herself glaring at her phone when the time for Jaime’s usual call comes then goes.  She should be used to it by now, she thinks, and accept that he’s not going to call her every night anymore; it’s been five days.

She restlessly wanders her apartment, first angry then sad then resigned.  She drops onto the couch and turns on the TV.  She glowers at the stupid movie that fills the screen and makes her think of Jaime and, on a surge of rage, she remembers Maggy telling her that _she_ is the one with the power to move things forward.

She glares at her phone.

There’s obviously nothing _to_ move forward, she thinks, but she’s tired of sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring.  It’s been five days and it’s ridiculous and pathetic and at least a hundred years behind the times and she’s tired of wondering what’s going on in that far-too-handsome head of his.

She picks up her phone and closes her eyes as her anger is swamped by sudden, knee-weakening terror.  She takes a deep breath and sets her jaw.

If nothing else, she thinks grimly, at least she’ll _know_.

*/*/*/*/*

“Brienne?”

“...hi.”

“It’s almost ten; is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“...okay...?”

“...I...I just...you haven’t phoned the last couple of nights.  I just...is everything okay with _you_?  Or—oh gods—I’m interrupting—”

“ _No!_   I mean, no, you’re not interrupting.”

“Oh.”

...

...

...

...

“I thought you’d be out on the town tonight, Brienne.”

“...why would I be out on the town?  I can’t even remember the last time I did anything that could be remotely considered as ‘out on the town’...”

“Well, you _were_ hungover the other day.”

“Oh, _that_!  Bronna and I were playing trivia at the pub across from her place.  We won, and the bet with the neighbouring table included shots for the winners.  I’m a bit of a lightweight so...yeah.  I ended up spending the night on Bronna’s couch.”

“Was it fun?”

“Oh, lots!  We’re going again next week, if we don’t have a case.”

“That’s good.”

....

....

“So...you and—?”

“She was waiting for me when you dropped me off after our movie date.”

“It wasn’t a date!”

“...of course it wasn’t.  Anyway, she was waiting for me and I told her to leave.  Then she kept phoning so...look...everything with her is _complicated_.  Bottom line is she wants a divorce and I’ve promised to hook her up with a good lawyer.”

“...oh.”

“I’ve also told her what we had is in the past and that’s where it’s going to stay.”

“...oh?”

“Yes, oh.  I’m going to find her a good lawyer and then hopefully she’ll stay out of our...my life.”

“Lannister, Kettleblack, Pycelle and Moon Boy.”

“...have you hit your head?  You’re suddenly spouting gibberish.”

“Lannister, Kettleblack, Pycelle and Moon Boy, LLP.  They’re a law firm specializing in divorce.  I can send you their info when I get into the office in the morning.  I did some work for them before Jaime Lannister Investigations came into existence.”

“Ah.  Are they any good?”

“Well, I’ve never had to use them myself, but I’ve heard they’re the best.”

“Well, they hired you to be their investigator, so they must be the best.”

“...thank you.”

...

...

“So...does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“I was never angry with you, Jaime.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then would you like to go to Sansa Stark’s wedding with me?”

“Good gods, _why_?”

“Well, first, because it’s going to be the train wreck of the century, let’s be honest.  And second...I really want to see you rock a formal gown.  Preferably backless.  And wearing heels.”

“...I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Then a short dress and heels.  Your legs can drive all thought out of a man’s head at a hundred paces; you should show them off more.”

“...are you _drunk_?”

“Just speaking truth.  So, will you do me the honor of being my date to the wedding?”

“...all right.”

“Good.”

...

...

“I should...probably...let you get to sleep.”

“I should probably let you do the same.”

“Good-night, Jaime.”

“Good-night, Brienne— _Brienne_!”

“Yeah?”

“......this...this... _this_ can’t go on!  You know where we’re headed if we keep doing this.”

“What _this_?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about!”

“...I know.”

“Save yourself while you can, Brienne.  I should leave and never come back and let you get on with your life...but I don’t think I can do it on my own.  You have to tell me—order me to leave.”

“Jaime...”

“I’m not...my world is complicated.  It’s always going to be complicated and...you deserve more.  You deserve _better_.”

“...I don’t want you to leave.”

...

...

...

...

“I’ll see you in the morning?”

“I’ll see you in the morning.  Good-night, Jaime.”

*/*/*/*/*

 _Well_ , Jaime thinks, almost giddy with relief and anticipation and hope as he carefully places his phone on his bedside table, _at least I tried_.

#####


End file.
